


Honey is Sweeter at 3 AM

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Desolation of Smaug spoilers, M/M, Sollux the five year old, aka tea, magic leaf ass juice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux gets a bad cough in the middle of the night and Eridan takes care of him like the good boyfriend he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey is Sweeter at 3 AM

**Author's Note:**

> I was really determined to write something today, and I've had this awful cough thing since the day before Christmas, so have a 'me living vicariously through fictional Sollux' mini-fic. I never, ever write anything this short, so I'm sorry if the pacing or end seem a little weird.

You’re woken in the middle of the night by violent, wheezing coughs that wrack your body and make you curl up into a miserable crescent of illness. They’re also especially painful; they make your throat burn and your lungs feel like they’re coated with gravel that rattles around when you try in vain to expel it.

If there’s any chance Eridan’s still asleep, you want him to stay that way. Plus, you could really go for some water. You try to stifle your coughing as you get out of bed, but they try to escape you anyway and it just sounds like a dog quietly barking.

Once you get into the kitchen, flipping on lights as you go, you let them out. The force of them has you doubled over, drawing wheezing breaths in between terrible, phlegm-y expulsions. You feel pretty pitiful and equally unhappy. God, your throat burns.

Once the fit stops, you straighten yourself up, shaking slightly, and take a plastic cup out of the cabinet. If you’re struck by more coughs, you don’t want to drop a glass and break it. The fridge’s ice maker groans as you hold down the level before spitting out a few cubes. You wait impatiently for the cup to fill with water, then gulp down three-quarters of it in one go. The water wasn’t on the ice long enough to cool it much, but it still felt good. You turn back to the fridge to refill the cup.

You feel a hand on your back and almost jump out of your skin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I didn’t want to wake you up.”

He smiles weakly, tiredly. “I don’t think anyone could sleep through you coughin up a lung there.”

You lean your head down against his shoulder, turning your face away from his so you aren’t breathing your contaminants into his air. He’s about six inches shorter than you, so your craning your neck down a little bit and it’s not the most comfortable thing, but he puts his arms around you and rubs your back and its warm and that’s nice. You groan pitifully, mostly for the effect of it. Except the effect is that you start coughing again. It’s short lived, but long enough that you regret it.

“Go lie down on the couch. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t like tea, ED.”

“Can you just not argue with me for once in your life? It’ll relax your throat so you’ll fuckin drink it, you don’t have to like it.”

You nod lazily, too tired to do anything else. You go back into the bedroom to get your glasses before obediently making your way to the couch in the living room. You turn on the TV. If you’re going to be awake and coughing your brains out at—you check the clock on the DVD player—three in the morning, you can at least be awake and coughing your brains out while watching Family Guy.

You hear Eridan doing stuff in the kitchen, and then doing stuff in the bathroom, and then doing stuff in the hallway, and then the kitchen again. Meanwhile you’re zoning out through the title sequence.

Eridan comes into the living room after a few minutes, shuffling slowly so he doesn’t spill any of your tea. He’s also carrying the huge pink blanket Feferi gave you guys as a housewarming gift and he’s holding onto the cap of a bottle of honey with his teeth. He looks kind of ridiculous. You start laughing. You transition to coughing. You suppose it’s instant karma.

He carefully sets the mug down on the coffee table, then drops the blanket on the couch next to you. You see that he was holding cough syrup in his other hand, which was probably why the honey was in his mouth.

When you stop coughing, you say, “You could have just taken two trips. Or asked me to get something.”

“Well I didn’t,” he replies stubbornly, reading the back of the bottle of cough syrup to figure out how much to dose you with. He pours it out and hands it to you. You down it. It always tastes nasty but somehow kind of good at the same time. You fish out the rest of the stuff that was held in the little cup by its viscosity with your tongue. He takes the cup from you when you’re done and goes to rinse it out in the sink.

You unfold the blanket and spread it over yourself. You always thought it was especially ugly, especially considering Feferi usually has such good taste, but it’s very warm and cozy. You give a few feeble coughs and eye the tea. It’s still got a teabag in it. You don’t know how long it’s supposed to steep. You do know if you take it out sooner it will taste less like ass.

Eridan comes back and caps the little cup on top of the bottle of cough syrup.

“When will your magic leaf juice be ready?” you ask.

“Give it another minute. And sit up a second.” You do, a little reluctantly. He tugs the coffee table close to the couch carefully, so you can both reach the mug without getting up, and climbs under you so your head can rest on his lap and you’re lying between his legs. You settle back down, enjoying his warmth.

“You should go back to bed,” you say quietly. You don’t want him to. You want him to stay here and take care of you. You’re lucky that that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“I’m not tired.”

You’re seized by more coughs. Your elbow is probably digging into his leg since you’re both propping yourself up with it and using that arm to cover your mouth. He rubs your back more until you stop.

“Did this just start tonight?” he asks as you turn over and lay back down on him.

“I felt it coming on yesterday. Nothing we could have done about it.”

“I guess not.”

You both watch the TV in silence for a while. After a minute he leans over you and takes the tea bag out of the mug and sets it on a coaster. Then he flips open the cap of the honey and pours some in.

“I want more than that,” you say as he starts to set it down.

“You’re not gettin any more. You don’t need the sugar.”

“But the tea tastes bad.”

“You sound like you’re five years old, Sol, stop whinin.” He hands you the mug and you sip it carefully. It’s very hot, but you’re used to hot because you drink your coffee as soon as it’s brewed and your mouth is as sensitive to hot as Smaug the dragon is to molten gold, which is to say, not very. You think you would appreciate this cough better if it coated your insides with gold instead of mucus.

Even if it tastes bitter and leafy, which is not what you generally look for in an ideal beverage, the warmth is nice on your throat. You take another sip and set it down. You listen to Stewie and Brian argue. They have the best interactions. Eridan starts pushing his fingers through your hair. You haven’t showered in two days so it’s a little greasy, and normally he complains when you let it get gross, but now he doesn’t say anything.

You’re not really watching the TV. You’re really tired, but the persistent tickle in your throat keeps you awake. A couple of times it manifests into a full on coughing fit again. After each one you chase the rawness in your throat down with more tea. It really leaves a bad aftertaste in your mouth, and you consider asking him to put more honey in again, but you don’t want him to stop petting you. He threads his fingers through your hair, rubbing your scalp a little, easing away the headache you weren’t aware you had.

Eventually the cough syrup starts to work. You go through a good twenty minutes without coughing. The last inch of tea in your mug goes cold, and your eyes flutter as your boyfriend pampers you. Eventually you fall asleep with your head in his lap and his fingers in your hair. He turns off the TV and the light he can reach, gently pulls your glasses off your nose, and falls asleep with you.


End file.
